Regrets and Hate
by Redi Chalyn
Summary: Anaria Hawke blames herself for everyone close to her being gone, tipped over by her mother's death. The only one who can understand her pain left her after one night, but when he returns he truly is the only light in the young rogue's dark mind. Oneshot.


Anaria paced the floor of her study, mostly so she wouldn't break anything or scream. Truthfully, she was confident that she could rip her own hair out and still feel this rage. She knew that the only one of her companions who would understand her pain would be Fenris, but she refused to speak to him about it. She hadn't even told him about that filthy blood mage and what he did to her mother. Magic...the only good mages she'd known were both dead. Bethany...her sweet sister...she hadn't protected her. She remembered how her younger sister had begged her to put the knife through her to end her suffering, how she'd gone limp in her arms. And for what? Some bloody lyrium idol that Varric's bastard brother left them for dead over! Now this...her own mother taken away by a blood mage who wanted to recreate his dead wife in some sick ritual. She screamed and grabbed the nearest thing, throwing it at the wall. The book hit the floor without harm and she fell to her knees, grabbing at her hair to keep from crying.

"And here I thought I was the only one who liked to redecorate in that manner."

Anaria froze, turning her head to see Fenris standing in the doorway. "What do you want?"

Fenris looked down. "I...heard about your mother."

That bloody dwarf had been running his mouth again. Anaria squeezed her eyes shut. "Come to gloat then, have you?" She stood up and looked at Fenris. "Hear me tell you that you were right all along, that I shouldn't trust mages? There's not a damned thing you can say that I haven't already screamed."

Fenris shook his head, looking into Anaria's eyes. He stepped up to her, putting a hand on her cheek. "I came. Not to gloat, nor to lecture."

Anaria's will finally broke and she cried, covering her eyes. She felt herself being guided then pushed into a chair. "It's all my fault. Everything...everyone I love...gone."

Fenris sat across from her, just looking at her. He still wore the red kerchief he'd absconded with that night they shared together.

Anaria took her hands away and looked at Fenris. "And nothing will bring them back." Her voice was surprisingly sharp compared to how broken she'd just sounded, and she stood and took a few steps away, staring into the fireplace.

Fenris rose and went to stand beside her, putting a hand on her back. "I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose your family."

"No, you can't." Anaria closed her eyes. "Father. Carver. Bethany. Now Mother." Her voice broke and she tried not to cry but more tears escaped. "I couldn't save them..." She balled her hands into fists. "I couldn't save ANY of them!" She glared at Fenris. "And now you, the one who I trusted most, the one I swore to protect, you come back here! You're not here to stay: you'll never stay!" She shoved him away, not caring that she probably hurt him from the lyrium. She turned away. "All I've ever wanted is to be happy, even for a small time. But even that is impossible." She started trembling from rage and tears.

Fenris walked up to her, sorrow and regret in his eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "I would never hurt you."

"You already did." Anaria glared into his eyes, but her glare was filled with pain. She closed her eyes. "I can't protect anyone. Everyone I love, they all..."

Fenris touched her face. "I didn't know your father, but he raised a fine daughter. Your brother made a rash decision but it was to protect the family he loved."

"Bethany had no reason to die. Mother...she looked like some freak's dead wife! They had similar faces and for that she had to be mutilated?"

Fenris closed his eyes. "Magic is a burden. Bethany understood that and was careful. She loved you." He sighed. "I suppose I could say that the Maker saw that in her and took her at his side."

Anaria shook her head. "Don't. She could have been slain quickly, or died in her sleep. The Maker has no use for darkspawn filth and their corruption."

Fenris looked into Anaria's eyes. "You couldn't have done anything to protect your mother more than you did."

Anaria's eyes flashed with anger, but then they closed. "You're wrong. She told me she had a suitor. I told her I wanted her to be happy, that she deserved no less. Lured in by a trap, she went with the man and was mutilated, turned into some undead creature kept alive by foul magic." She gasped, the tears falling freely. "I held her...I held her in my arms and begged the Maker to save her. And she died. And Bethany...I plunged that dagger into her heart and felt her blood flow over my arms as she smiled at me." Her knees buckled and she was held up only by Fenris's arms. She laid her forehead against his chest. "I failed them...I failed them all."

Fenris shook his head and lifted her up to look in her eyes. "You would not hear me if I said no, but that is the truth." He guided her to the chair and set her down, sitting across from her again, keeping a hand on hers. He sighed. "I never knew my family, but yours was good to me. Your sister, mage or no, had a good heart. Your mother was what I like to think mine would have been like." He looked into her eyes. "And you are the strongest woman I've ever met. I will go through the Void for you: never doubt that."

Anaria nodded, closing her eyes. Distantly, she felt Fenris's arms around her and felt herself being picked up and carried, only to be laid down in her bed. Weight shifted on the edge beside her, and she felt Fenris's hand on her arm. The pain was still there, and would be forever. But she had been right: the only one who could understand it was the elf sitting beside her, even though part of his pain was because of leaving her, though she only knew he left. "I will kill them all..." she whispered. She heard Fenris say something, though she couldn't understand the words. It was enough, however, that he was here. Maybe she hadn't failed everyone.


End file.
